


Danger (Jim Moriarty Story)

by MoriartyLover666



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Action, Jim Moriarty - Freeform, John Watson - Freeform, Kinda Storyline I dont know, Love, Mild Smut, Multi, Romance, Sherlock Holmes - Freeform, Violence, Winter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-12
Updated: 2017-10-23
Packaged: 2018-12-27 00:02:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12069654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MoriartyLover666/pseuds/MoriartyLover666
Summary: ((GENERIC NAME I KNOW, I'M SORRY!!))Ok yet again I started a story and get other story ideas and don't finish the other ones, but I will try to update this one lmao.Basically, a girl, Willow, who used to go to school with Sherlock meets John in the street in the middle of one of Sherlock's cases. Shocked to see him wandering around with a friend (he wasn't very popular when he was in school, in fact, he had no friends at all). Sherlock seemed too focused on his 'case' to pay attention to Willow, but of course John offered for her to come over for dinner at the weekend.Little did she know, this meal would change her life, as she gets obsessed with Sherlock and John's work, and she becomes a kind-of third partner to the duo. It's when Jim Moriarty, Sherlock's 'arch enemy' get's involved, and Willow finds herself accidentally falling for him, and finding herself facing the difficult decision - Love, or Friendship?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Ok everyone, Willow is 35, just so you know. :)

**Chapter 1 - Did you say.... Sherlock?**

-MoriartyLover666

 

London was jam-packed with busy winter shoppers on this mid-December day. The air was crisp, filled with the scent of mulled wine and pine trees from the nearby Christmas tree sellers. Willow tended to stay inside as much as she could in Winter. Oh how she hated the cold. Before leaving the house, she had made sure she had multiple layers on, including a thermal vest, t-shirt, sweater and a large faux fur jacket. Not to mention her winter gloves, scarf and woolly hat. She walked out of her flat, locking her door behind her. She descended the flight of stairs, all the way to the bottom floor, and slammed the front door of the tall building shut. She immediately shivered as she stepped outside, a gust of wind blowing onto her, as if timed perfectly to annoy her. She headed as fast as she could to the underground, holding her fluffy hood up, protecting her face from the strong wind that blew against her.

As she got off the tube, with the slight warmth she was quite enjoying, she knew she was to face more strong wind yet again, as she ascended the stairs, up into the freezing winter breeze. The busy streets of London were enough to put anyone off going outside, never mind Willow with her claustrophobia. She took a deep breath, as she made her way towards the crowds of people, flowing down the streets, as if almost like traffic on the road. Still holding up her hood, she headed straight for the first shop she could see that could be of any use to her - Starbucks. Perfect time of the year to go and get a lovely, hot drink. She exited the traffic flow, and felt the warmth of the shop hit her as she stepped inside, and closed the heavy door behind her. She made her way towards the counter, staring up at the menu as she walked. She was yet to try the new Christmas selection of hot drinks, so she picked the nicest sounding one, received her drink, and sat at a table next to the condensed window. She removed her gloves, to briefly check her phone. She pulled it out of her pocket - No notifications. She was so lonely these days. Two years ago on Christmas day her husband, Joe, mysteriously died. The Police force couldn't find the answer to how he was killed, or  _who_ killed him. This was probably the reason she hated the cold so much, she presumed, as the cold never used to bother her as much as it did after Joe died.

When she had finished up her drink, she pulled her gloves back onto her hands, took the empty cup to the bin, and prepared herself once again for the freezing wind. She took a deep breath, and stepped outside. The harsh wind blew her hood down before she had gotten a chance to hold it up. Gasping, she reached for the hood, pulled it back over her head, and rejoining the flow of traffic. Christmas shopping. For who? Her parents. Her only 'friends'. Her mother, Katherine, loved to bake, and she also enjoyed running and other various exercises. Her father, Steve, on the other hand, enjoyed trains, and was very into animals. Christmas shopping was always a big deal for Willow though, despite hating Christmas. She wanted to get her parents the perfect presents for everything they had done for her in her life. She also felt obliged to buy them good presents, as she had nobody else to buy for. 

Willow stopped for a second and looked up to her right, and saw 'Waterstone's', a book store. She could get her mother a cook book? In she stepped, the door automatically closing behind her. The woman behind the counter looked up from her newspaper, and gently smiled at Willow. Not keen to start conversation, Willow politely smiled back, but turned away quickly looking at random books. Finally, after a while of searching, she spotted the cookery section. Willow scanned her eyes over the shelves of cook books.  _Which would be the perfect one?_  Delia Smith? No. Jamie Oliver? No. Mary Berry? Perfect! Katherine loved Mary Berry's recipes. Willow opened up the book to the first recipe. 'Classic Victoria Sponge'. Suddenly, she was 8 again. He mother standing in the kitchen, baking this exact sponge cake, while Willow stood on a stool, against the worktop next to her mother, licking the sponge mix off the spoon. 

"Hi, is everything okay?" Said an unknown voice from the side of Willow. Coming out of her flashback, she looked over to the lady, and seeing that it was the woman from behind the counter, replied:

"Oh yes, fine thanks, I'll take this please."

"Of course, just bring it over to the counter please love."

Willow doing as instructed walked over to the counter, placed the cook book on it, while rummaging through her handbag for her purse.

"That'll be £12.99 please sweetheart." Politely asked the lady.

Willow finally managed to find her purse, and give the worker the exact amount of owed money. Forgetting about the receipt, she dashed outside, a sudden urge to go home. A panic attack. She was having a panic attack. She didn't have these as often as she did when Joe first died, but from time to time, she still got them. They were most often at the most inconvenient of times, as well. Feeling dizzy, she ran as best as she could to the underground station. As she sat waiting for the train, she nervously played with her hands. The whole underground was spinning, and she felt like she couldn't breath. As soon as the train arrived, she dashed straight on, ignoring the people who were before her in the queue to get on. She sat down on the only remaining seat on the tube, next to an old granny. It was too hot. Willow was way too hot, but there wasn't enough room to take her coat off. 

**NEXT STATION - BAKER STREET.**

Willow heard this on the inter-com, and jumped up out of her seat, barging through all of the people standing in the middle aisle of the train. Sweat pouring from her, she stood anxiously at the door, waiting for it to open. When it finally did, she practically ran out of it, and headed straight outside. Little did she realise, she hadn't even been paying attention to where she was, and she lived nowhere near Baker Street. When her brain picked this up she looked nervously around her. Her Panic Attack started to wear off, and the cold wind started to cool her down. That was much better. She could finally try and figure out what to do from here - how to get home. There was no way she was getting back on the tube again on that day, not after that experience she had. Mindlessly, she started slowly wandering down the street. Watching her feet as she tread, the realisation hit her once again. Her husband was dead, she had no friends, and she hated herself, and her life. Every single December she got this realisation.

She was back in her flat with Joe. He was there, and they were wrapping Christmas presents for all of Joe's friends. This was the first Christmas they had ever spent together. Her mind was re-living this memory to try and torture her, as if trying to make her hate Christmas more and more as the memory went on. Her and Joe were laughing in her memory. Laughing - Willow hadn't done this for about two years. She couldn't remember the last time she had laughed.

The loud sound of footsteps on the concrete pavement woke her up from her flashback, and she looked up, to see a curly haired man wearing a long coat, running, as if towards her, at full speed. Without the time for her brain to even comprehend what was happening, the man ran past her, barging into her as he did, knocking her straight onto the cold, hard floor. He didn't turn around to give an apology, instead he just kept running. Willow just sat there, on the floor. She shut her eyes, as tears started to roll down her red cheeks. When she opened them a couple of seconds later, a smaller man than the one before was standing above you. He had grey hair, with the slightest blonde tint to it.

"I am so, so sorry about my friend. He can get a bit... Over-excited let's say, when he... Finds something, out?" The man said with a questionable tone. "Are you hurt?"

Willow looked up at him, tears still filling her eyes, blurring her vision slightly. She wiped them away, and saw a concerned look on the man's face.

"No, no it didn't hurt, I'm not crying because of that, but thanks." Willow said, with a little smile, to re-assure the man that she was 'fine'.

"Yeah, Sherlock is a sociopath, hence why he didn't apologise. He doesn't really understand human nature."

"Well I'm fine, anyway, thanks for your concern-" Willow stopped her speech, and thought for a second.  _Sherlock?_  That was a familiar name... Willow looked up at the man, confused.

"Is everything okay?" He asked her.

"Did you say, Sherlock?" Willow replied.

"Yes, why, do you know him?"

"I... I went to school with Sherlock! Oh my god! Sherlock... Holmes yes?"

"Yep, Holmes, that's the one!" replied the man.

"And you're his.. Friend? He has a friend?" Exclaimed Willow, shocked by this fact.

"I suppose so, yes. Hard to believe, I know." Said the man, with a small grin on his face, as he held out his hand, gesturing for her to shake it. Willow complied, and shook it.

"I'm John Watson" Said the short man, smiling as he shook Willow's hand. By this point they were both standing, as John had helped Willow up.

"I'm Willow Blackwood." Replied Willow, actually smiling, glad to be in the company of someone who she felt surprisingly comfortable around.

"Listen, it's really lovely to meet you, but I'm going to have to go and catch up with Sherlock, he will probably end up getting himself into some sort of trouble. How about you come over for dinner on... Saturday evening? He should have finished this case by then, and you can re-unite with him."

Willow was astounded by this sentence. Her mind wasn't trusting her ears, yet she tried to figure out was seemed like a coded message in her brain. This was a sentence she never thought she was ever going to hear again. This was a sentence she hadn't heard for at least two years. This was a sentence, that she didn't know she needed, until this moment in time.

"Wow", exclaimed Willow, gobsmacked "Yeah sure! That'd be great!" She replied, almost shouting with excitement.

"Great! Our address is 221B Baker Street. In fact, here is my number, just in case." John said, quickly jotting down a number on a piece of paper he'd found in his jacket pocket, a long with a pen.

"Thank you! I'll see you this weekend then!" Shouted Willow, as John started to walk away.

"Yeah, see you then!" John replied, waving behind him as he ran off into the distance.

What had just happened? Willow looked down at John's phone number on the piece of paper. She stared at it for a solid minute, before taking off her gloves, and pulling her phone out of her coat. She opened 'Contacts', and inputted John's number into her contact list. She now had three! Her mother, her father, and John. She hadn't felt this happy since before Joe had died. _Have I just made a friend?_ Willow thought to herself. She grinned, as she placed the phone back into her pocket, put her gloves back on, and headed for the bus stop. She caught the bus home, despite it taking way longer than the Tube.

When she arrived in her flat, she placed the lone book on her kitchen table, as the day she thought was going to be the worst day she'd had in a while, became the best day she'd had for two years. She felt **happy**.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, I just want everyone to know - This story has had no planning, and I'm just writing it as I go along, so if you spot any bad flaws in it feel free to let me know! Anyway, hope you enjoy Chapter 2!

**Chapter 2 - I never snickered at you, Sherlock.**

**-** MoriartyLover666

 

Saturday arrived after what felt like years of waiting. Willow sat day in, day out, staring at the clock in her living room, hoping that some miracle would come, and the time would just fly away in front of her eyes. She needed more social interaction. She hadn't realised how  _bored_ she had been for the past two years, until she came into human contact. Her parents, of course, had been the only messages she'd had on her phone in the past week. No message from John, thankfully, as a message from John would probably mean cancellation of the meal. Willow still was clueless as to what Sherlock was like these days. She only had visions in her mind, of a young Sherlock running around the playground on his own, either playing with a pirate sword, or hiding in the school's small Science lab, testing out random things he'd found on the yard. Was he still the same? John seemed pretty normal, Willow thought, so why would he associate with someone like Sherlock if he hadn't changed? Suddenly, Willow felt a wave of nervousness wash over her. What if he isn't anything like he used to be? What if he turns their meal into an awkward confrontation? Willow pushed these thoughts out of her mind, focusing entirely on the fact that she  _could_ make friends. Or at least a friend. Maybe...

This Saturday was very dark, the Winter sky filled with large, grey clouds, with what looked like snow filling them. Willow  _hated_ snow. It was so cold, and even wet, and the only way to escape the snow was to stay indoors. But she couldn't do that today. She had friends to be made. She had a chance to better her life. She wasn't going to miss this for the world.

She looked at the time, once again, on her living room clock. 16:00hrs. Time to start getting ready! She rushed into her bedroom, and sat down at her perfectly clean and tidy dressing table. Along with anxiety, paranoia and claustrophobia, she also had quite a significant amount of OCD. She assumed this was due to the fact she had nothing else to do with her life, other than tidy, over and over, until everything was spic and span. It became a habit, tidying, and she quite enjoyed it. She looked at herself in the mirror and stared into what used to be a happy soul, full of life and joy. Now when she stared, she saw a pained soul, empty and dark, lifeless. Once again pushing away her intrusive thoughts, she looked at her array of makeup. She applied her foundation, light pink blusher, before choosing her favourite autumnal coloured eye shadow palette, and mixing up some colours to make the perfect shade to match her matte lip paint. She lastly applied some mascara, before taking another look at herself in the mirror. When she felt her makeup was next to perfect, she curled her auburn hair into perfect waves. She wanted to make an amazing first impression on Sherlock and his friend, John. She was almost trying to  _impress_ them. Finally, she picked out a cute, black dress, and some silver glittery heels. Even if they were just staying in their house for a meal, she did not want to be rejected. That was one of Willow's greatest fears. Rejection.

When it got to around 17:30hrs, Willow called a taxi to her flat. She was not risking going on the tube in the dark looking like this. No chance. She pulled her curtain back in her living room as she stood their with her clutch purse, and peered out the window, looking over the streets of London. Snow had started to fall. Very, very gently, it basically wasn't even there, and there was no chance of it laying, yet Willow was terrified. She was wearing a dress! She immediately rushed over to her coat stand, and lifted off her faux fur jacket that she wore to town earlier in the week. Her mind flashed her back to the horrifying incident of The Tube, and her panic-stricken self lost in Baker Street. But then John appeared and lightened up the mood. She came back to reality, smiled, and put the coat on, when she heard a car horn outside. Her taxi. She walked outside, locked her door, and being wary of slipping on the wet concrete in her heels, she slowly dropped herself into the backseat of the taxi.

"Where to ma'am?" Asked the taxi driver.

"221B Baker Street please." Answered a surprisingly comfortable Willow.

"Of course" Replied the man. He was wearing a flat cap over what looked like dark hair. He had brown, puppy dog-like eyes.

Off the taxi drove, through the city of London, passing groups of friends laughing, walking from pub to pub, club to club. She sighed as she remembered that once she was like that. Once she had a life, a social life. She had friends, whom she pushed away when Joe died. She didn't want contact with anyone when he died, and because she was under that much trauma and stress, her memory of what happened with her friends was a blur. All she could remember, was her friends standing up in her living room, while Willow was sat in Joe's armchair, drinking Vodka. She remembers her friends asking questions, concerned for Willow's mental health. She blew her top, and screamed at her only friends, Spring and Hazel. She even vaguely remembers throwing her glass at Hazel, and them storming out. They never got in contact with her again. Some friends they were, Willow thought to herself. Before she knew it, the taxi driver with an Irish accent was telling Willow she was at her destination. She quickly hopped out of the cab, and walked around to the driver's seat window, looking in her purse for some money.

"How much?" Asked Willow politely.

"No charge" Said the man gently, as he quickly drove off into the misty end of Baker street, leaving only a trail of smoke from the exhaust behind him.

Why would he give her a lift for free?

Willow slowly wandered over to the door of 221B, next to a cafe. She took a deep breath, and knocked on the door with her freezing cold knuckles, which were now starting to go slightly numb. Willow stood in the cold for a short while, until she heard light footsteps coming from inside. Taking another breath, she expected John to be stood at the door. Instead, when it opened, she saw a small, old lady standing there with a purple blouse on, and black pants. She invited Willow in. She had assumed John had told the woman that she would be coming over, hence why she wasn't hesitant in letting her into the flat. 

"Hello! I'm Mrs. Hudson!" Exclaimed the small lady.

"Hi, I'm Willow!" Replied Willow, smiling.

Mrs. Hudson showed Willow up the creaky, wooden stairs to the door of a flat. Mrs. Hudson knocked gently on the door, but before receiving an answer, went on ahead into the flat. 'Yoohoo' was the noise she made as she cautiously opened the door.

"Sherlock, there's a woman called Willow here to see you!" Mrs. Hudson mentioned. As she said this, Willow saw no Sherlock, but John popped his head up from his armchair, put down his newspaper and walked over to Willow and Mrs. Hudson. He held out his hand, and Willow shook it back.

"Glad you made it! C'mon in!" John announced, gesturing for Willow to come into the living room. The room was quite dark and dingy, with the fireplace lit. They had a peculiar wallpaper style, with a yellow drawn on smiley face on it. There was two arm chairs in the middle of the room, by the fire. On the mantle piece sat a skull, a very realistic one, and some papers stabbed with a knife. What a strange room. Thought Willow. John walked into the kitchen, without saying anything, and Willow followed. The kitchen was small, and had a small table in the middle of it. The table wasn't to be seen though, as it was covered with science equipment. Maybe Sherlock hadn't changed? Maybe he was still his strange pirate loving, science obsessed self? She averted her eyes from the table, and slightly to the left of it, where Sherlock was standing there. He was wearing a nice suit, no tie though, which was plain black, with a white dress shirt. He raised his eye brows as if to say hello, as he took a sip from his mug of coffee. Willow smiled at him, gobsmacked that Sherlock Holmes from school was standing there, in front of her once again.

John stood next to Willow, and introduced her to Sherlock.

"Sherlock, this is Willow. She says you went to school with each other, yes?" Asked John.

Sherlock stood examining her for a few seconds.

"I vaguely remember you from my childhood, I had no connection to you though, you were most likely just one of the kids who stood there and snickered at me as I rushed around trying to make a difference to the world, and made an effort to do something with my life, where has snickering got you eh?"

Willow didn't know what to reply. Willow _never_ snickered at Sherlock. She was just confused by him, as kids would be. Willow caught Sherlock staring again, as if observing her features. Willow started to feel like this was a mistake, and that she most certainly wasn't meant to have social interaction, especially not with anyone from her childhood.

"Why are you so scared?" Asked Sherlock, quickly.

"Sorry, what?" Replied Willow.

"I know that you have anxiety, it's clear from the way you're standing..."

"Sherlock.. Not now..." Interrupted John. Despite this, Sherlock carried on.

"You also have OCD. I can tell that you have already bleached your bathroom twice today. Hm... It also seems you have claustrophobia, you made a great effort to remove your coat when you came in, clearly telling me that you don't like being restricted, despite the fact that you hate the cold, I can tell this from this hideous faux fur jacket that your wear. You also have a crippling fear of rejection, I know this from the look on your face, you look as though you're about to cry. You tried to make a significant effort to look your best tonight, are you trying to impress us? It seems that way, but why would you want to impress us? - Maybe it's because you have no friends, maybe it's because your husband died, you can still see slight marks around where your wedding ring used to lay, it was clearly too small, but you didn't want to offend your husband. 'Oh sherlock, how do you know I'm not here for a romantic encounter?' Oh woman, if you were here for a romantic encounter, you see, you wouldn't have made such an effort to look this good, you're clearly here wanting friendship, because you're a smart woman, and know that if someone falls in love with you for your impressive looks, you could be heartbroken, and with such a fear of rejection you wouldn't want that, would you now? Oh and also the way you are standing you look like you're literally about to burst into tears and you're standing in a very seemingly awkward position. I hope that wasn't too much for your boring little brain to take in..." Sherlock blurted out, before breaking eye contact with her, and dipping a biscuit into his coffee.

John just stood there with his head in his hands.

"No. It wasn't too much. You were absolutely right about almost everything."

"Oh really? What did I get wrong?" Sherlock asked while taking a bite out of a second biscuit.

"I never snickered at you Sherlock. In fact, I was quite fascinated by you, I was confused. I wanted to ask you what you were doing and if I could help pretty much all the time, but I knew if I spoke to you, everyone would unfriend me for it, and you being you, you would have probably rejected me back then, and I would've been left with no friends." Willow replied confidently.

Sherlock just stared back at her.

"I do apologise." Said Sherlock, whilst walking through into the living room, and sitting down on his arm chair, and picking up a violin off the floor. He started playing 'Johann Sebastian Bach - Partita No. 2, BWV 1004' on the violin. John followed him through.

"Sherlock, we were going to go out with Willow for a meal somewhere."

Sherlock stopped playing, and looked up at John. Willow expected him to say no, and that she'd be sent home.

"Sure. Will be nice to get to know her." Announced Sherlock, standing up, and pulling on a long, dark grey coat.

John looked over at Willow, with a shocked look. And with that, they all headed out to a restaurant. 

When they arrived, they sat down at a round table with three chairs. Willow picked up the menu first, and quickly decided she wanted a simple lasagna. She passed it around to John, who decided on Risotto, and Sherlock got fish and chips. Sherlock placed the menu back in the middle, just in time for the waiter walking over to take their order. The order had brown eyes, dark slicked back hair, and what sounded like hints of an Irish accent, being covered by a posh English accent. Willow recognised this man. From where though, she couldn't think. She didn't pay too much attention to it though.

Their meals arrived, and they ate up. Just before they left the restaurant, Sherlock gave Willow his number. She was delighted. She now after two years, could finally say that she had friends. She had two friends once again. Willow put Sherlock's number into her contact list, and slid her phone back into her pocket. They all took a cab back to Baker Street when they were all finished. Though when they arrived, Willow waved goodbye to her new friends John and Sherlock. They exited the cab, and the driver drove her to her own flat, half an hour away. She paid the driver, and made her way inside.

She got in, locked her door, and realising it was 23:00hrs, she washed her makeup off, slid into a nightie, and went to sleep, happier than she'd ever been in two years. She felt content, and proud of herself for going out and making friends, and not backing away. Sherlock had explained a little bit about his job that night. He told her he was a consulting detective, and that he solved cases for the imbecilic Scotland Yard. Willow agreed that they were indeed imbecilic, as they failed to solve the mystery of Joe's death. She fell asleep, thinking about everything that had happened that night.

She was  **happy**.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed this Chapter! :D


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This hasn't been updated in so long//I will try and include some smut in this one ;)

Chapter 3 - 

-MoriartyLover666

 

Willow awoke the next day. Outside was calm, the sky was clear, and Willow was feeling great. She hopped out of her bed, and neatly made the white bed sheets that covered it. Once the pillows were patted down and neatly placed, she cheerily walked through to the kitchen in her flat. With a large smile on her face, she made herself a cup of coffee, and walked through into the open - plan sitting room. Switching on the TV, it was immediately on the news.

 

**"13 people died in brutal explosion in London..."**

 

 

Willow listened in, concerned...

 

**" _Has not been decided whether it's a terrorist attack, a gas leak, or an explosive bomb or nuclear weapon..."_**

 

Not unusual news, thought Willow, still feeling sorrow for those who had unfortunately lost their lives. Switching it over, onto some morning chat show Willow wasn't interested in, she pulled out her phone, ignoring what was playing on the screen. On her phone she had gotten a missed call from John. Strange. Willow hesitantly rang him back, hearing the ringing sound, before it tripping into the voicemail service.  _What could he want?_ Thought Willow...

**KNOCK KNOCK!**

A knock? For Willow. She was starting to get a little bit concerned at this chain of unusual events that were taking place this morning. Wrapping her dressing - gown around her, she placed down her coffee on a silver drink coaster, and headed for the door. She warily pulled it open, forgetting to put on the safety latch. There she saw a man, who she felt she'd seen before. He had striking brown eyes. with a cold glare staring at her. From what Willow could see, he was wearing a dark suit, and black dress shoes. His hair was dark, and slicked back.  _Where had she seen him before?_

Before she could inspect him anymore, she felt a sharp blow over her head, knocking her out. All she saw was him picking up her body, before everything went dark...

 

Willow opened her eyes. Everything was blurry, her eyes glazed over with sleep. In her haze, she saw a figure standing before her. When she finally came to, she realised it was the same man who had hit her earlier. It was then that she realised, she was no longer in her familiar surroundings of her home. She was in a dark, cold room, with only a wooden chair in it, in which she was sitting on, tied to it. She had tape over her mouth, otherwise she would have been screaming at the top of her lungs right now. She saw the dark figure come closer towards her, and knelt down, so his face was on level with her's.

"The name's Professor Jim. Moriarty... But you can call me Jim..." Said the man, smirking with the right side of his mouth lifting higher than the other. His gaze was cold, emotionless, as if he wasn't human. Willow's heart was racing. The whole world around her had felt like it had stopped, it was empty. All she knew was 'Jim Moriarty', and his piercing glare that could turn you to stone if you looked hard enough. 

The man quickly yanked off the tape from Willow's mouth, clearly demanding her to speak. She let out her heavy breathing from her mouth now, the tape was clearly giving her difficulty breathing, not to mention this highly intimidating guy, who had seemingly captured her.

"Where am I?" Asked Willow, breath still heavy.

"You are in my basement." Replied Jim, sharply.

"Who are you?" Asked Willow, confused, angry, and empty.

"I've already told you that, are you deaf or something?"

"I know your name, but  _WHO_ are you?" Shouted Willow, spitting accidentally in his face while doing so. He wasn't happy about this, but didn't bring it up.

"You don't need to know WHO I am just yet, young lady, but you're here for a while, and don't complain because you will not be let out however hard you try to leave and complain."

"WHY AM I HERE? YOU CAN'T DO THIS TO ME! I HAVE FRIENDS!"

"Friends? Oh you think that Sherlock and John are your friends?" Jim chuckled, but stopped immediately, and glared icily into Willow's eyes.

"How.. How do you know?" Stuttered Willow.

"Darling. I am the most dangerous man you will ever meet. I can have you and your family destroyed in the blink of an eye, and nobody would even suspect me, and even if they did, I could EASILY worm my way out of the court case. It's not like I've never done it before... I've been watching you."

Willow was stunned. Feeling faint, she didn't reply, knowing full well that opening her mouth would result in losing consciousness. She simply looked deeply into his eyes, unwillingly. There was almost a magnetic force drawing her closer and closer to his eyes. So menacing. Yet so full of life and story. Willow quickly had a snap of thought while staring into this guy's eyes. The taxi driver who charged her nothing for her ride? He had the same eyes! He was the taxi driver.  _How did I not realise before?_ Pondered Willow. 

"The waiter as well, sweetheart. I was the waiter too." Snickered Moriarty.

Willow's mind was over-flowing with all sorts of thoughts, and not being able to process them all, her brain over-loaded, and Willow needed to let it all out. She screamed at the top of her lungs, Moriarty realising and quickly covering her mouth with his large hand. Willow stopped, and accidentally stopped breathing at the same time.

"Do NOT make another sound or I'll put the tape back over your mout-"

"WHY ME?" Shouted Willow through Jim's hand.

"Look will you shut the FUCK up?" Replied Moriarty, clearly trying to remain calm and collective. "All will become clear sooner or later..."

Willow took another look into his chocolate eyes, and burst into tears. She had tried her best to stay composed, but she knew deep down she couldn't handle this emotionally. Her mind flooded back to her and Joe in her living room, laughing, drunk, having a good life in general. It then directed her thoughts to Sherlock and John, and that glorious moment when first making friends with them -or at least with John at first. She snapped back to reality and looked over at the man who she hated with a passion, and was disgusted at her sight. Moriarty was stood there grinning over her, like a beast. He knew what he was doing was hurting her emotionally, and somewhat physically, and he was enjoying it - loving it in fact. Willow looked over with anger and disgust, not saying a word. The magnetic force seemed to be working it's magic, she couldn't tear her gaze away from this putrid human, even though her whole body was telling her she had to before she broke down again.

Moriarty took another step closer to her, crouching again. 

"I'm gonna have some fun with youu" Off - trailed Moriarty, in an almost singing voice.

Knowing full - well it annoyed him last time, Willow purposely spat in the taller man's face, perfectly aimed at his nose. She saw the anger build up in his eyes, and started to regret her decision. She had just angered the man who called himself 'The most Dangerous man she will ever meet', and she did it at her own accord. She watched, as the coldness started flaring in his eyes. Willow thought it was physically impossible for him to look any more menacing, but he managed it. By every second he looked 10 times colder, and Willow's breathing started to pick up largely, trying to shift around in her chair she was tied to, she knew exactly what was coming next.

Moriarty briskly lifted his arm up, and hit Willow clean over the cheek. He repeated this action several times, until Willow cried out for him to stop. He'd cut her cheek, blood now dripping from it. Willow closed her eyes gently, tears dripping down her face. She watched Jim walk away, up some steps, leaving Willow in pain, blood gashing, now, from her face. Confused, upset and angry, Willow slowly felt herself lose consciousness.  

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed! :D  
> (btw i realise this chapter is shorter than the others, i just felt that was an appropriate place to end the chapter)

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading this first chapter, I hope you enjoyed!


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